The Fortune of the Rougons, by Émile Zola

And now Silvere, whose head was turned away from her, who no longer seemed even conscious of her presence, had eyes only for those strangers whom he called his brothers.

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The Bridge of San Luis Rey, by Thornton Wilder

Even memory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead, and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.